


Ack

by ProgramasaurusRex



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProgramasaurusRex/pseuds/ProgramasaurusRex
Summary: Dinesh and Gilfoyle make pretty good roommates.





	Ack

It occurred to Gilfoyle about a month after moving back into Erlich's house that he and Dinesh were comfortable together.

Richard was still living with Jared, but Gilfoyle had moved back into the house with Dinesh. He'd said it was because of location and square footage, but Dinesh knowing that Gilfoyle was choosing to live with him now, out of other possible options, changed the mood a little.

The two of them suddenly had no audience for long blocks of time, which was different. Because Dinesh had always known that Gilfoyle could see through him. He just didn't like it when Gilfoyle humiliated him in front of a third party. Now, when they were frequently alone together in their own home, there was little to lose for either of them by being themselves.

The change in feeling was most apparent on the weekends. Sometimes, it was 4:30PM on a Saturday, and they were still in their pajamas, and they sought each other out, if only because they hadn't talked to anyone all day. They would share the inevitable desired things that were meant for multiple people, like video games, movies, pizzas, or games of Carcassone with all the expansions that covered up the entire coffee table and had to be carefully transferred to the floor so Gilfoyle could finish blocking in all of Dinesh's cities.

When money was tight, they even cooked sometimes. Like everything else, they soon grew competitive about the cooking, making each other more and more elaborate meals, until Dinesh finally gave in and admitted Gilfoyle made much better fajitas than he did, although not properly spicy because he was a feckless Canuck. But they kept cooking nice meals even after the competition was forgotten. They liked having an innocent way to please each other.

And sometimes they just talked. Privately. Gilfoyle had to admit he had missed that, and now they could do it whenever they wanted. And he wasn't sure why, but those conversations had become a vital part of his emotional health. Some days, Dinesh just had to tell Gilfoyle something right away, and no one else was even considered. It made him feel special. Or Gilfoyle started telling Dinesh about something without even thinking about why. In the office, of course, they were a little colder, but their underlings had all noticed the slow melting away of the tension between the two CTOs across the break room table.

And then Gilfoyle broke up with Tara.

It had been mutual, technically. Gilfoyle could see that Tara didn't care for him anymore as anything but a distant friend. But he still cared for her. He just wanted a version of her that cared for him, too. Eventually, he'd realized that no Tara at all was better than this endless rattle to his self esteem.

As always, he sought comfort in things. Expensive alcohol, first person shooters, blacksmith puzzles, even the old Orson Scott Card books he'd loved as a kid. He was past looking for comfort from people. 

Dinesh knew, of course, because the walls weren't that thick. Gilfoyle could only hope that Dinesh would be decent enough, or afraid enough, or uninterested enough, to leave him alone. But a switch seemed to flip in Dinesh when he first saw Gilfoyle's red rimmed eyes.

He didn't embarrass Gilfoyle. He entered the living room with a gentleness that looked foreign on his face and set down a plate of spaghetti in front of Gilfoyle. That's right, it was his turn to cook dinner. Then, Dinesh sat down in the armchair, made eye contact, and waited for Gilfoyle to get used to his presence.

Gilfoyle took a big bite of the spaghetti. It was so hot he almost couldn't swallow it, but he managed.

"Sorry, I should have told you it was hot," said Dinesh.

"Of course it was hot. You just made it. I have only myself to blame."

The two of them sat there eating spaghetti for awhile. It was delicious. Dinesh had made the tomato sauce from scratch, with plenty of cream, just the way Gilfoyle liked. It must have taken him an hour.

"You broke up with Tara?" Dinesh asked softly after an interval.

"Yeah," said Gilfoyle, as if it wasn't important.

He could feel Dinesh's awkwardness and hesitation. Finally, like he was telling a secret, Dinesh asked, "You okay?"

"No," Gilfoyle sneered.

"Well," said Dinesh, "you don't always ask for help when you're upset -"

"You don't either."

"When I'm upset, you usually at least drop by to see how I'm doing," Dinesh pointed out.

Gilfoyle folded his arms. "More fool me."

Dinesh tapped his knee with his fingers. "It helps. Talking, I mean. You can refuse my offer, but it helps."

"You haven't made an offer. You're still dancing around the issue."

"Okay," Dinesh sighed. "Would you like to talk about your breakup with Tara? I wouldn't tell anyone, or make fun of you, or ..."

"Yes."

Dinesh looked over, surprised.

"It hurts."

Dinesh moved over to the ottoman by the couch on which Gilfoyle was currently lounging.

"Go on," he said.

"I doubt," sniffed Gilfoyle, "that there's anything particularly original about anything I'd have to say. Breakups are all about the same."

Dinesh tilted his head. "You could say it anyway. I don't think you've ever bored me with your endless emotional rambling before."

Dark eyes. Warm eyes. And Gilfoyle could see that Dinesh really did want him to feel safe.

"It wasn't even surprising," Gilfoyle said. "Everyone knew we'd eventually break up. It's a little surprising it lasted five years out of grad school. We grew apart. It's just ... Knowing there's a day coming in the future when someone's not going to think you're special anymore isn't the same as watching it happen."

Dinesh nodded. "At least you got to be special in the first place."

Gilfoyle held his own elbow. "Oh, you want to feel sorry for yourself, too? Didn't know this was a party."

"Sorry," said Dinesh. "Keep going."

"How long is a normal amount of time to talk about this kind of thing?"

"Does it matter?" asked Dinesh. "Are you afraid I'm going to judge you for being more heartbroken than an average man? How often do you actually think people talk to me about their feelings?"

"It's too late to hope you won't judge me," said Gilfoyle.

"For fuck's sake, stop worrying about what I'm going to do," Dinesh told him, smacking a hand against another. "You're my friend, Gilfoyle. You've earned the right to do this with me. Sorry if it interferes with your image of yourself as some great Satanic anti-god, but you're having a very normal reaction to the end of a long relationship."

"Long distance relationships don't count," Gilfoyle burst out.

Dinesh raised his eyebrows.

"It's not like it was real. She was like the Great Pumpkin to me. It's not like I lived with her, like you and me -"

Gilfoyle broke off with a panicked look.

"I know what you mean," said Dinesh after a beat. "You can still be sad, though. You spent time thinking about her, so of course she meant something to you."

"She didn't spend time thinking about me," said Gilfoyle, cadence rising. "Yeah, time for the titillating details. She had another boyfriend. Not just for sex, a guy who took her to Bed, Bath, and Beyond for toothbrush holders. All our old friends knew, too. Well, her friends, I should say, because they were clearly never mine."

Dinesh nodded soberly. "I can see how you would find that upsetting."

"You can 'see how I would find that upsetting' ... Is that all you've got?"

"Well, I don't know what you even want!" cried Dinesh. "You're not letting me win at this. Do you want me to tell you I can relate to being betrayed by acquaintances that I wished myself into thinking were friends? Or that I can understand how that would be a nightmare to you, personally, because you're so afraid of trusting people? Or do you just want to yell at me because I'm here, and it makes you feel better about yourself when I fail at things? Well fine, you win. I don't know how to be someone's friend!"

Gilfoyle held up both palms, wondering how much truth he ought to tell.

"Do you even want me here?" Dinesh finished.

Gilfoyle swallowed. "I do."

"Well then ..."

"I want you," said Gilfoyle, "to stay here with me even when I'm being difficult."

"Oh," said Dinesh. He looked out into space for a minute. "Well, haven't I been doing that?"

Gilfoyle pulled himself into a sitting position. "You have."

A bit later, he added, "I don't know how to be someone's friend either."

Dinesh tentatively sat down next to Gilfoyle on the sofa. "Okay well," he said, "we can learn together."

They weren't touching, but it felt like it might happen soon-ish, and it added to the tension.

"Tell me about all the things that are making you unhappy," Dinesh suggested. "But first tell me what kind of reaction you want."

Gilfoyle snorted. "Look, I can't just tell you how to react. It doesn't work. I can tell you I don't really like comparisons to you, or meaningless platitudes, or opinions about me."

"You're not leaving me much."

"Okay," said Gilfoyle, "how about you just say ... ack."

"Ack? Like in TCP?" Dinesh asked.

"Yeah, exactly."

"And that would be ... sufficient?"

Gilfoyle shrugged. "I don't know. Can we try it at least?"

"Okay."

Gilfoyle swallowed. "I'm alone now. There is no one anywhere in the world that I can assume will offer me affection freely."

Dinesh looked unsure, but he said, "Ack."

"I am a snarky asshole who makes others unhappy for the sake of it."

"Ack."

"I lack worth as a human."

"Ack?"

Gilfoyle was sort of rocking forward and back now. "I do. No one wants me to exist, not like I am now. A few people need me for my technical skills, but they'd all happily yank the personality circuits out of me if they could."

Dinesh said "Ack" again, but managed to make it sound skeptical.

"I don't even know why you're here right now. You can stop saying 'ack'," finished Gilfoyle.

Dinesh turned his body about an eighth of the way toward Gilfoyle. "I like you."

Gilfoyle's eyes widened. "Why?"

Dinesh shrugged. "Cool. Funny. Honest. What's not to like?"

The two of them sat in silence for awhile. Presently, Gilfoyle got up, rinsed his plate, and put it in the dishwasher. Dinesh did, too. It was getting pretty full, so Gilfoyle started a cycle. 

As he stood up, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn around. He didn't want things to get weird.


End file.
